


Message Received

by Kiyuomi



Series: Pliroy Week Fics [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gratuitous Usage of Petnames, M/M, Phone Calls & Telephones, Pliroy Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:33:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10042736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiyuomi/pseuds/Kiyuomi
Summary: It’s 11:58pm, JJ’s having some band crisis about auto tuning and Yuri just wants to go to bed.“You know what you should tell your guitarist?”“What?”“Shut. Up.”“Yuri, was that directed to me or him?”





	

                When Yuri received a text from JJ sunnily telling him “good night kitten!”, he had, in no way, smiled, played with his phone, or rolled over his blanket covers exactly four times while deciding what to reply. It was on the fourth turnover that his phone vibrated noisily between pale fingers, the words “King Bae” shining on the screen. Only the gracious of his heart encourages Yuri to accept the call.

                He would proceed to regret that action for the next hour and a half.

                “And then you know what he said? He said I should consider auto-tuning my voice. Me! My voice! The pinnacle of our songs, the loveliest vocals there are, and he wants to auto-tune them!” JJ rambled on, voice grating against Yuri’s ears. At first, he had silently agreed that JJ should not have to deal with such troublesome bandmates. But then the prick kept talking.

                And talking.

                It’s 11:58pm, and Yuri just wants to go to bed.

                “You know what you should tell your guitarist?” Yuri groans into the phone, flopping over the throw pillows. He considers punching one, but it’s cute embroidered kittens don’t deserve it.

                “What?” JJ’s voice, ever-irritating, only gets worse as Yuri waits for sleep to embrace him. Or death, honestly. He’s not picky.

                “Shut. Up.”

                Silence. Yuri can hear himself breathe against the pillow. It’s warm against his cheeks.

                “Yuri, was that directed to me or him?” Jean-Jacques Leroy is a lucky man, Yuri thinks. He must be the luckiest man on Earth, because if he were anywhere near a fifteen-mile radius of Yuri right now he would consider stalking out the door and walking through the snow just to meet JJ, simply to sock him in the face.

                “Both,” he spits out, because damn if hearing this prick talk about his boyfriend like that isn’t irritating. There’s only one person in the world who’s allowed to mock JJ, and that’s Yuri.

                “Aww, babe,” JJ’s voice is mockingly sweet, crooning out every syllable, “but don’t you want to listen to my sweet tunes? I just finished the chorus to my next song.”

                “I don’t care,” he does. JJ’s been working on the lyrics to his next single for months now, repeatedly avoiding the topic in the press. There’s rumors it’s about a special topic. Or rather, a special someone.

                It’s not like Yuri cares. Much.

                “Oh? So I’ve got no one to sing this brand new ballad to?” It’s a ballad now? Yuri bites his lip, pondering. On one hand, he can tell JJ to stuff it and talk to him later when he’s actually rested up. On the other hand, JJ might actually be enough of a jerkface to avoid the topic again, just like the last ten or so times Yuri had brought it up.

                “You’ve got one minute.”

                “A minute is all I need. Give me ten seconds,” that smug prick. Still, Yuri can’t stop the smile that blooms on his face at the static of JJ clearing his voice. Yuri had always loved music; he couldn’t picture a skater that doesn’t. But still, there’s something different from the roar of the crowd at a concert to the pitch perfect recording CD, to the single low tunes of an acapella singer. There’s nothing in the world quite like a song by the person you love.

                Three.

                JJ intakes a breath.

                Two.

                Yuri does too.

                One.

 

“Happy birthday to you.

 

                                               Happy birthday to you.                                                 

 

                                                                                                                        Happy birthday, my dear Yuri.

 

                                                                                                                                                                                         Happy birthday to you.”

                12pm.

                March first, Yuri Plisetsky’s birthday.

                Yuri hates this man.

                “Happy birthday, kitten.” He’s laughing, a weird crinkle through the phone. Yuri doesn’t even bother tapping off speaker, simply laying and listening to the filtered chuckles. “I mailed you a present, but tracking hasn’t updated since four days ago, so if it doesn’t arrive know it’s coming.”

                “You cheapo,” Yuri grumbles, and he’s not teary, he doesn’t care; the fact that no one had done something like this, called him at freaking midnight just to sing him a darn dumb song, doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care. His voice isn’t breaking. “Couldn’t even shell out for EMS.”

                He loves this man.

                There’s many present Yuri puts on his online wishlist. He asks for a new leopard print beret, a flashy silver arrow pin, and a new pair of black ripped jeans. He wants the latest game console, and the games to go with it, and a cover too. He wants a new laptop, a new phone, a new kitchen to make delicious food and a new island with two seats for his grandpa and him. He wants so many things. Things that all the money in the world could buy, and then some.

                There’s something here that he can’t buy.

                “I’m going to bed.” Yuri mumbles, only because there’s nothing else to say. Nothing else to do.

                “Good night, Yuri!”

                “Good night.”

                They stay on the phone for at least an hour more, neither talking, neither singing, just hearing the low murmurs of each other’s breath and the occasional rustling of the blankets and pillows underneath. JJ leaves to use the bathroom some fifty minutes in, and returns to the sound of snoring through the phone. His phone vibrates with an alert.

                The package tracking updated.

                “Delivered.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> (JJ got Yuri a cat mug and Yuri proceeds to spam Instagram with pictures of him using said mug.)
> 
> Happy Bday Tiger punk


End file.
